Samar Solstice

5/10/08


She was as coy as a veiled bride. Hidden and reclusive, revealing only bits of her- just enough to entice, yet never betraying the mystery that surrounds her.

The sun had almost reached its zenith, and the rays stung my skin. I was traveling alone. The rusting vehicle bound for Guiuan was filled to the brim, and I was squeezed in a corner right above the sacks of dried coconut. I felt nauseous, and every time the bus would suddenly stop to let passengers in, I’d take deep breaths willing myself not to vomit.

But I consoled myself each time I’d haphazardly poke my head out the window (amidst the curious glances of other passengers) - the views were worth it. The landscape of karst formations, thickly-wooded mountains, mangrove forests, coastlines, and swamp lands were interrupted only by the seemingly endless, winding, and frequently dusty highway.

After hours of traversing the road which snaked through Samar’s mountains, the canopy of trees suddenly parted to reveal her splendor: white sand beaches with waters that sparkled with an emerald brilliance. I held my breath.

It was not long before I found myself walking barefoot on the sand, tickled by tiny crabs that walk their funny way. The sun’s disk slowly sank in the horizon, coloring the sky a bright pink. Waters around me shimmered and beckoned for me to take a dip.

As I waded into the deeper waters, the warm tide embraces me slowly like a lover’s caress. I am now one with the emerald sea, and she cradles me in her arms as dusk turned to night.


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I’m totally going against my doctrine “keep you kikay kit and stay indoors”- I will be starting a blog (which I hope will someday turn into a coffeetable book) called “Samar Solstice”, devoted of course to my travels to the nearby island Samar.

Consisting mostly of photographs (in the meantime I’ll be using my old ones already in my PC) and a few anecdotes, the blog intends to solely show off Samar’s amazing beauty.

I will be meeting up with a BS Bio graduate based in Catbalogan, Western Samar to arrange for a tour of some of the most breathtaking spots in Samar, including Biri Island- where the rock formations are considered to be among the most beautiful (and according to legend is haunted by spirits!!). Now that’s what I call an adventure.

Son, I forgive you.

To learn that you’re gay, I admit, came only as a mild surprise to me. To learn that my eldest son is a bit of a slut, well, that’s another story. Obviously you are no longer that little angel who joined the choir and got good grades, and made your teachers and other parents glance at your Mom and I in envy as you beamed to your appreciative audience after your performance at the Christmas party.

Well, I suppose it’s not a total loss considering you’ve had more suitors than your mother. Now, unless you are planning on IVF or some other artificial means of fathering a child, sayang ang genes mo. Tsk tsk. You’ve chosen a more difficult life, but if you insist on your freedom I’ll respect that. I’m not a bad guy, I’m just looking after you. You and your brothers have grown up so fast and your old man is proud of all of you.

Hinay-hinay sa guys, and remember, I may not say this often but I do love you.

Papa

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Echos lang!

I'm Sorry I'm Gay?!

It’s been weeks since I’ve last spoken with my father and I know he’s not too thrilled with me right now. When Mama left for the US, she carried with her Papa’s copy of my book. I knew it would only be a matter of days before he gets hold of it. I know he called twice already these past weeks, and usually he would ask for me. If I’m not around, he leaves a message and calls right back as I get home from school.

One afternoon, I passed by Nanay on the upstairs sala as she was speaking with my father on the phone.

Papa? I mouthed to Nanay, and she nodded.

Perhaps he needs time to digest the contents of my book (after all it took me nineteen years to make peace with my sexual orientation) and besides, I wasn’t ready to speak with him yet. I walked past silently and went into my room.

My father and I used to be buddies. Before they went to the US, and way back in college while I was in Diliman, his visits were always a treat. We’d got to St. Jude Parish and go visit our relatives afterwards. The thing about Papa, he was such a joker- he’d make fun of everything that you can’t help but laugh at his jokes. I speak in past tense because the last time he went home for his surgery he seemed like a different person. He was hurt and withdrawn, and he became really bossy and strict. One of my brothers even remarked once that they haven’t spoken in years because Papa had the tendency to “power trip”. Whatever it is that took place in the US, I have no idea- I would ask my brothers each time they go home about what happened because it seemed like a big black hole, the events that took place just before our father moved out to work in another city, I never got a clear answer, just bits and pieces of incidents.

To a man with three boys, who learned that his eldest son whom he invested so much in, is gay- that’s got to be tough. I’d understand it Papa feels distraught. But before actually deciding on coming clean to my parents I wrestled with the idea for a long time- my freedom at the price of getting their feelings hurt.

Wait a minute. It’s not like I planned to be gay. I certainly don’t recall falling in line somewhere as a child where they would sprinkle “gay powder” on those who wanted to be different.

“Wanna piss off your parents? Tired of their nagging? Here, sprinkle yourself with Gay Powder, it’s the best revenge.”

There is nothing I could do now except wait- the ball is in his court. At one point I got a little desperate I had this urge to e-mail him, or send an SMS, or message him at Friendster. But wait, how would I begin?

Pa, I’m sorry I’m gay?!